


Questions and answers

by HelveticaBrown



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, this was supposed to be harmless fluff but now it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8298191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelveticaBrown/pseuds/HelveticaBrown
Summary: A kiss on the cheek, slightly miscued, finally has Emma and Regina asking and answering questions that have been hanging between them for so long.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I dredged the skeleton of this fic up from a dark and dusty corner of my hard drive, because I was determined to finish something before exams, because otherwise, this semester has been a total bust writing-wise. It was only supposed be around 2,000 words of pure, unadulterated fluff and it wasn't supposed to end in smut, but apparently Emma and Regina are sick of being kept apart. And I suspect there's a few of you reading this who won't mind that so much.

* * *

It seems like every small-time crook and wannabe villain in Storybrooke has decided to crawl out of the woodwork on the same day and their timing couldn’t possibly be worse. Emma puts a stop to yet another ill-conceived plan for world domination or petty theft or something (she’s a little sketchy on the details by now) and it’s three hours past what was supposed to be the end of her shift when she finally manages to make her escape. She’s already an hour late for Regina’s birthday dinner by the time she jogs up the drive and rings the doorbell at 108 Mifflin, still wearing her uniform.

Regina answers the door and Emma’s met with the kind of smile she wouldn’t have thought possible a year or two ago. Regina’s smiles, even at their brightest, have always seemed to be glazed with tears. But today there’s an ease and an openness that Emma rarely sees and she finds herself flustered in a way that can’t quite be explained by her late arrival and the craziness of her day.

She manages to force out a slightly strangled, “Hey,” as she tries to get herself under control.

“Emma, you made it.” And there’s that smile again and any chance she had at control is gone.

She’s just about to launch into an apology when Regina’s hands come to rest on her arms and she loses her train of thought completely. She tilts her head slightly, trying to recapture her lost thoughts and a moment later, Regina’s lips brush the corner of her mouth, a kiss on the cheek gone slightly astray. It’s brief, barely a whisper of contact, and nothing more than innocent mistake, an accident of timing. It _shouldn’t_ feel like anything more than that, but somehow it does. It feels like everything.

Emma’s become so good at reacting the way she’s supposed to and not the way she wants to, but today she’s just enough off balance that she can’t quite stop her sharp intake of breath. She wishes she could have, though, because she thinks maybe she’s given herself away when Regina’s hands drop to her sides and her eyes, so bright and warm a moment ago, become shuttered.

And then Regina’s stepping back, an apology tumbling from her lips, and Emma thinks that maybe they’ve both given themselves away, because there’s panic in Regina’s eyes that’s all out of proportion to something so small. Emma’s brain, somehow so sluggish moments ago, is now propelling her forward and she takes hold of Regina’s hands, stopping her from moving further away.

“It’s okay,” she says and she should probably say something more, maybe laugh it off, tease Regina about her aim, make it seem as insignificant as it should be. But she can’t quite find the will to do that, so she just stands there holding Regina’s hands. And maybe they’re on the verge of understanding something bigger, because Regina finally relaxes and the panic in her eyes is replaced with something else, a question that neither of them is quite able to articulate.

They don’t have a chance to say anything more, because her parents and Henry wander into the foyer and then they’re swept up in conversation and laughter. The wide, slightly-forced smile she plasters on her face soon becomes genuine as she slings an arm over Henry’s shoulder.

They take their seats at the dining table, Regina across from her, and Emma’s not sure she’s going to survive this, not with the way Regina’s looking at her. She fumbles for something to say, _anything_ , but Regina’s the only topic that comes to mind right now.

“You cut your hair,” she finally says.

“A week ago. But thank you for noticing,” Regina says, and it could have been a rebuke, but her voice is light and there’s a gentle, teasing smile on her lips.

Emma shakes her head. “I did notice. I meant to say something sooner, but…” She shrugs. As casually as she can manage, she says, “It looks good.” Of course it looks good; Regina’s hair always looks good. She hopes her voice or her face don’t betray her thoughts right now, because all she can think about is running her fingers through it, finding out if it feels as soft as it looks and then sweeping it aside and pressing her lips to the line of Regina’s jaw.

“Thank you, Emma.” There’s always been something about the way Regina says her name, whether in anger, hurt or kindness. Tonight it takes on new meaning, tonight it feels like a caress, soft and drawn out.

There’s already a near-empty bottle of wine on the table and maybe that explains the easiness of Regina’s smile at the front door. Emma pours the remainder into her glass and gulps down half of it in one go, hoping it’ll settle her nerves. It doesn’t.

Her father pipes up from the end of the table, asking about the arrests that held her up, and it’s a very welcome distraction. It doesn’t last long, though, because she and Regina reach for the pepper grinder at the same time and their fingers brush. They both freeze, still touching, and Regina, lips parted and a slight frown marring her brow, looks just as confused as Emma feels.

“Sorry.” Emma’s the first to draw back, because they’ve been like that for long enough that she’s sure everyone must have noticed. The rest of her wine goes down the hatch.

“I’ll get another bottle from the kitchen,” Regina says, a little awkwardly, and Emma watches her go, eyes drawn to the way her skirt clings to all of her curves.

The hand on her back that Regina uses to steady herself as she leans over to pour Emma a new glass of wine is probably unnecessary. No, it’s _definitely_ unnecessary, because Regina manages to top up David’s glass, a moment later, without any such contact. She’s so absorbed by the memory of that fleeting contact that her mother’s request to pass the beans somehow becomes an impossible conundrum. It’s only after she repeats it for the third time that Emma manages to work her way through the problem.

“Sorry.” She grins sheepishly and passes the beans down the table.

Snow frowns, a hint of worry in her voice. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just a little distracted. Busy day.” And it _has_ been a busy day, but Storybrooke’s sudden crime wave is just about the furthest thing from her mind right now.

“Are you sure? You’ve barely touched your dinner.”

Emma looks down at her plate and realises that her mother is right. She starts shovelling mashed potatoes into her mouth with the kind of determined effort that had been habit during her days in the foster system, barely tasting them. Snow watches her, still frowning, until she is apparently satisfied that Emma’s appetite is intact.

The real source of Emma’s distraction sits back down across from her, and she pauses, her fork halfway to her mouth. Regina quirks an eyebrow at her and Emma realises how ridiculous she must look. She puts her fork down and tries to disguise her awkwardness by taking a sip of wine, but even that seems to beyond her abilities right now, because a moment later she’s coughing and her eyes are watering uncontrollably.

Emma excuses herself from the table between gasps and retreats to the kitchen to die in peace, waving her mother away as she makes a move to follow her.

It’s not like she’s never eaten in Regina’s presence; she’s managed to successfully negotiate the challenging tasks of transporting food to her mouth, of chewing, of swallowing many, many times before. And tonight shouldn’t be any different. It is, though, because all those other times Regina wasn’t looking at her with a kind of promise in her eyes and Emma wasn’t thinking that maybe, just maybe, she might finally find out what Regina’s scar felt like as she traced it with her tongue.

There are footsteps behind her, a hand on her back, then Regina’s voice next to her ear, soft, concerned. “Emma, are you okay?”

It seems like everyone’s asking her that question tonight, and she’s not sure she can answer, because breathing, already difficult, has just become that much harder with Regina’s hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. When she’s certain her lungs have stopped trying to turn themselves inside out, she turns to face Regina.

Regina’s hand is on her arm now, and they’re close. Not even a half-step forward and they’d be pressed together. Emma’s sure she must look like a mess right now, but Regina’s looking at her like she’s anything but and she thinks that maybe they’re both about to get an answer to their earlier question.

She’s not sure if she’s disappointed or relieved when her mother walks into the kitchen a moment later and Regina takes a step back. They return to the table and somehow, Emma makes it through the rest of dinner unscathed.

Her mother brings out the birthday cake. Emma takes a moment to watch her family, to watch Regina. She looks happy – really happy – in a way that neither of them would have imagined possible a few years ago. Henry’s leaning into her and it’s like none of those years of distance ever happened. Her mother is smiling at Regina holding Neal and her father’s telling her some corny joke. For a moment Emma feels like an outsider peering in, intruding on a moment that isn’t hers to watch, but then Regina catches her gaze and there’s a smile just for her. She joins them on the other side of the table and her heart feels full.

Neal has been rubbing his eyes sleepily for the past few minutes and Snow smiles apologetically at Regina. “He’s going through a phase where he won’t sleep anywhere but his own bed.”

Any moment now, her mother’s going to say their goodbyes and Emma will be expected to go with them. She’s overtaken by sudden fear at the thought of leaving and wracks her brains for a reason to stay. She doesn’t want to go home tonight without finding out if this is real, doesn’t want to risk losing her nerve, doesn’t want to take the chance that when the clock strikes midnight this moment will be nothing more than a memory of something that never was.

She’s silently thankful when Henry provides one. “I got Mom the new Ghostbusters movie for her birthday. Do you want to stay and watch it with us, Ma?”

She looks at Regina for guidance and there’s a subtle nod. “Yeah. Sounds great, kid.”

Her parents leave and she and Regina take their places on the sofa, Henry between them. She can barely focus on the movie, even though it’s one she’s been wanting to watch, because her brain is too busy working through all of the possibilities and every moment of doubt she’s ever had comes to visit her all at once. She barely manages to crack a smile most of the movie, even though Henry’s laughing so hard he looks like he’s going to rupture a blood vessel. And Regina’s laughing too, but there are a couple of moments when Emma looks over and catches her looking pensive.

The movie ends, and Henry’s yawning. He hugs them both and says goodnight and then they’re left alone, sitting in silence.

Regina’s the one who finally speaks. “Would you like a glass of apple cider?” she asks and Emma thinks of the first night, when Regina asked that same question, and she said yes then and how she would have said yes to so many other questions Regina might have asked. Maybe this time Regina will ask them, or maybe Emma will answer without the questions ever being spoken.

Emma nods and follows Regina into her study, standing there awkwardly while she waits for Regina pours two glasses of cider. She follows Regina over to the sofa and they sit at opposite ends, turned slightly inwards to face each other. Her knee brushes against Regina’s leg and neither of them makes a move to draw back. The barely-there contact firms and she can feel the warmth of Regina’s skin through her uniform pants.

Emma takes a sip of the cider and it warms her, but not nearly as much as the way Regina is looking at her right now. Regina’s not even bothering with the pretence of drinking; her cider is sitting abandoned on a side table and she’s sitting watching Emma avidly, one hand resting on her knee, the other tracing idle patterns on her own collarbones where skin meets the fabric of her blouse. Her breathing is deep and even and every inhalation draws Emma’s attention to the hint of dark lace she can see hiding under the deep crimson silk of her blouse.

Emma sets her glass aside and catches hold of Regina’s hand. She runs the pad of her thumb across Regina’s knuckles, soft and slow, and all the while, Regina is watching her, lips parted, other hand still fussing with the neckline of her blouse. There’s a hitch in Regina’s breathing and Emma takes it as a sign. She leans forward and Regina is already moving to meet her and then fingers tangle in her hair, drawing her in until their lips finally meet, soft, teasing, gentle at first, testing and tasting and then hungry.

Emma runs her fingers through Regina’s hair and it’s every bit as soft as she imagined. She gasps and knots her fingers in it as Regina’s mouth finds particularly sensitive spot on her neck. They’re still perched awkwardly on the edge of the sofa and Emma is suddenly conscious that there’s too much space between them. She needs more contact, needs to feel skin, needs to know what Regina feels like against her and how they fit together. She shifts until she’s straddling Regina’s thighs and eager hands are drawing her closer, fingers pressing, kneading into the flesh of her ass. She tips Regina’s chin up and finds Regina’s lips again, tracing them with her tongue, learning each dip, each line until Regina pulls her down into another deep kiss.

She leans back and unbuttons Regina’s blouse with trembling fingers and gently guides it over her shoulders and down her arms until smooth tan skin and black lace are exposed. She presses Regina back into the sofa and then pauses, her hands palming Regina’s breasts through the thin lace of her bra, suddenly worried that she’s rushing this. “Maybe we should talk about this.”

And Regina looks almost cross when she says, “We’ve been talking about _this_ all night.” She arches up into Emma’s touch and her nipples are hard and round against Emma’s palms, twin periods bringing an emphatic end to the conversation. And Emma supposes they’ve never really been all that good at talking, at least in so many words, so why start now?

Emma slides her hands down until just the tips of her fingers are strumming against Regina’s nipples, teasing, teasing, teasing and Regina makes a sound, deep in her throat that sounds like frustration and need all rolled together. She dips her head and traces the sharp line of Regina’s collar bones, alternating soft kisses and gentle nips. She wants to take this slow, wants to savour every moment of this, but there’s years of want and need built up and she’s not sure how long she can keep up her resolve.

She kisses her way down Regina’s sternum until she’s at the edge of her bra. She dips her tongue into the valley between Regina’s breasts and then traces her way along the skin at the edge of the cups of her bra.

“For God’s sake, Emma,” Regina growls. She begins to reach around to undo her own bra, but Emma laughs and catches her wrists, steering them away. She waits a moment, still gently gripping Regina’s wrists, and then releases them, before finally unhooking Regina’s bra. She bends down to trace delicate lines around Regina’s nipples with her tongue, alternating between sides and watching as they stiffen. When she finally draws one deeper into her mouth, Regina moans and clutches at the back of her head, holding her in place as she sucks and bites.

Their legs are tangled together and one of Regina’s thighs drives up between her legs and it’s just enough pressure to drive Emma wild. She grinds down against firm muscle and then Regina’s hands are on her ass again, pulling her more firmly against her thigh and Emma thinks she’s maybe ten seconds from doing her best impression of a teenage boy.

One of Regina’s hands slips around to fumble at the button of her pants. She draws back reluctantly and at Regina’s questioning frown, she says, “You first.”

Regina sighs and reaches for the buttons on her uniform shirt. “Can you at least lose some of these clothes?”

She lets Regina undo her buttons and then slides her shirt off. She leans forward and sucks in a breath as Regina’s hands skim up her sides, before sliding around to unfasten her bra.

She starts to dip her head down, ready to restart her previous task when Regina stops her with a hand on her chest.

Regina looks at her pointedly. “Your pants go too.”

She laughs, shaking her head, before finally shimmying her way out of them until she’s only wearing briefs.

Regina’s eyes are dark, darker than usual, watching each move, and her teeth are worrying at her lower lip. “Mmm… that’s better,” she says as Emma’s pants come off. And it is, it definitely is, because Regina’s nails are raking down her back and then she’s being pulled down until she’s skin-to-skin with Regina. She nuzzles into Regina’s neck and gives herself a moment to savour just how good she smells, before resuming her exploration of each inch of Regina’s skin. She wants to know everything and she maps her out first with her hands and then with her lips, her tongue, her teeth.

When Emma’s hand finds the zipper on her skirt, Regina obliges, lifting her hips and allowing Emma to slide the skirt off, along with her panties. Emma stops, completely overcome by the sight of her, of small, perfectly formed breasts, of the plane of her stomach and the jut of her hipbones drawing her eyes further down to the curve of her thighs and the neatly trimmed patch of dark hair between them.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” she breathes and she’s suddenly uncertain. She feels awkward and unworthy and it’s like she’s back in her teens, fumbling and clumsy. Regina is so _everything_ , and Emma doesn’t feel like she’s enough.

She doesn’t know how long she’s staring for before Regina reaches up, cupping her cheek with her hand. “Emma?” she says, a question in her voice, but she doesn’t get a chance to answer, because as if Regina can read her mind, she says, “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need _you_.”

It’s enough. She leans back down and skims her fingers down Regina’s inner thighs, teasing, closer and closer, and revels in the way Regina’s muscles quiver and her breath catches, until finally she lets one finger glide ever so gently through slick, heated flesh. She’s so wet and Emma almost can’t believe it’s just for her.

Regina’s hips cant upwards in search of firmer contact, which Emma denies, drawing back ever so slightly. And the way that Regina moans as Emma traces a teasing path not quite where Regina needs it, the way she says her name, “Emma, _please_ ,” it’s too much and she can’t hold back any longer.

She slides two fingers into Regina’s cunt, crooking them forward and then drawing them out slowly. Regina whimpers a little and edges towards her when she doesn’t immediately oblige with the next stroke. She settles into a rhythm, slow at first, but then she’s fucking Regina faster, deeper, responding to the urgency of her cries. Regina’s gripping the arm of the sofa with one hand and is kneading her own breasts with the other and her hips are off the sofa, canting up to meet each thrust. There’s an answering throb between her legs, because Regina with her head thrown back, deep in pleasure, is definitely the hottest thing Emma’s ever seen. She thinks that maybe she could come just from watching Regina, from feeling her slick and hot and clenching around her fingers.

Regina’s close, so close, and Emma draws things out just a little longer before finally gliding her thumb across Regina’s clit. It’s barely any pressure and only a couple of moments before Regina’s muscles tense and then she’s collapsing back onto the sofa, Emma’s name on her lips.

Regina reaches for her, draws her up for a soft sweet kiss, and when her hands start to move lower, Emma shakes her head, leaning down to whisper in Regina’s ear, “I haven’t finished yet,” before catching Regina’s ear lobe gently between her teeth.

She moves back down the sofa and gives Regina a moment longer to catch her breath, pressing gentle kisses to the soft skin of her thighs, starting from her knees and slowly working her way up, before finally dipping her tongue into Regina’s cunt. She’s careful not to use too much pressure too soon and she focuses on mapping out slick, swollen folds with the tip of her tongue and savouring Regina’s taste. Soon, though, Regina’s responding in a way that lets Emma knows she’s ready for more.

She swipes her tongue experimentally along the length from Regina’s cunt to her clit and she’s rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. When she does it again, Regina’s hands slip down to tangle in her hair, holding her in place and it’s all the encouragement she needs to bury her face deeper between Regina’s thighs. She sucks Regina’s clit into her mouth, lightly catching it between her teeth and teasing at it with the tip of her tongue and she knows what she’s doing is just right when Regina’s thighs clench tightly around her head.

She pauses a moment to draw breath, and Regina’s voice comes, low and urgent. “Please don’t stop, Emma.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice and then she’s lapping at Regina’s clit with the flat of her tongue and she feels Regina’s fingers tighten in her hair until it’s almost painful. The world narrows down to almost nothing, just the rhythm of her tongue and the taste of Regina, salty and sweet and then Regina’s hips are bucking, bucking, bucking until she pushes Emma away.

She slides up Regina’s body until she’s nestled against her, and whispers in her ear, “You were incredible.”

There’s a throaty laugh in response and Regina says, “I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line.”

“Mmm, no, definitely my line. You were incredible. _Are_ incredible,” Emma corrects herself. And it’s true. Regina, just fucked, hair gloriously mussed, is an incredible sight and Emma could happily enjoy it every day for the rest of her life.

She presses a kiss to Regina’s jaw and thinks that she’s pretty much content, until Regina’s hand begins to trace patterns on her side. She sucks in a shaky breath and Regina’s eyes, soft and a little hazy a moment ago, are sharper now, more intent. And Regina’s hand goes from languid to purposeful, straying from her side to brush against the edge of her breast and then trace it’s way around until her thumb is drawing circles around Emma’s nipple.

She’s not quite sure how it happens, but she’s on her back and she groans in pleasure as Regina rolls her nipples between her fingers and thumbs. Then there’s a mouth, hot and wet and perfect, replacing one hand and when teeth scrape against sensitive skin, she sighs, “ _More,_ ” and then Regina’s biting her with just the right amount of pressure.

Regina’s thigh slips in between hers and when Regina’s eyes widen, Emma knows she must be able to feel just how wet she is. “You’ve been so very patient, Emma.” She draws her name out, like she’s tasting it and Emma’s eyes flutter shut, because just Regina’s voice is enough. And then Regina’s breath is hot against her ear, whispering, “Don’t worry. I won’t torture you the way you did me,” and she almost comes right then and there.

There are fingers plucking at the waistband of her briefs and Emma forgets how to breathe as Regina draws them down her legs. Then Regina’s whispering in her ear again. “Do you want me to fuck you?” and there’s barely enough air in her lungs to say yes.

She turns her head to capture Regina’s lips and Regina kisses her deep and hard, licking into her mouth until she gasps. And then she’s gasping again, because there are fingers brushing past her clit before they bury themselves inside her.

She knows she’s not going to last long – it’s a miracle that she’s managed to hold off this long – and Regina seems to sense that too, because she’s fucking her with a slow, steady rhythm. Emma’s trying everything she can to draw this out, prolong the pleasure, because as much as she wants it to, she also doesn’t want this to end. She’s just started running through her two-times tables in her head, because that’s as much as she can manage right now when Regina is doing such distractingly wonderful things to her. It’s futile though; she gets stuck on two times three when Regina lowers her head and starts using her tongue.

She can feel her climax building now, unstoppable as a train with the brakes cut and with just as much force. She screws her eyes shut as Regina picks up her pace, just a little bit more, responding to the jerk of her hips, her tongue flat and hard and her fingers scissoring into her. And then it washes over her, like the sea in a storm, violent and tumultuous and all she can do is ride it out and hope she survives, because after all this time, she thinks Regina might finally have killed her.

She opens her eyes and it takes her a moment before she can focus well enough to see. She blinks, realising her vision is swimming because her eyes are watering and when she can see again, the first thing she notices is Regina smiling down at her.

She’s trembling and her heart is beating too fast and it feels like all her muscles have been taken and replaced with jello, but she summons just enough strength to pull Regina towards her. She needs an anchor in this moment, needs the tangibility and warmth of flesh and she finds it as Regina stretches out alongside her.

There’s a murmur in her ear. “You’re shaking.” And then Regina presses a kiss to her temple and strokes her hair with gentle fingers until she’s calm again.

Emma’s heart feels like it’s still beating out of control, but she’s breathing almost normally and she feels like she might just about be able to move her arms. She reaches out, experimentally, and is pleased when she manages to trace the line from Regina’s ribs down to the curve of her hips.

Regina props herself up on an elbow and she’s looking at Emma, one eyebrow quirked. “So… six. What does that mean?”

She frowns, not understanding Regina at first. It takes her a moment to figure it out and then she’s blushing.

“Well?”

“Umm… six. It’s two times three.”

“And? Why would you call it out when…” Regina leans in and licks Emma on the side of her neck. “When I’m in the middle of doing this.”

If it’s possible, Emma’s pretty sure she’s blushing even harder now. “It’s the most challenging arithmetic I’m capable of when you’re doing that,” she mumbles.

Regina looks at her like she’s insane for a moment, shakes her head then bends to kiss her again. And it’s not long before Emma finds that even two times three is too complex.


End file.
